


Responsible

by pseudomino



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Hogwarts Letters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2018-10-15 04:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10549984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudomino/pseuds/pseudomino
Summary: A young violinist gets her Hogwarts letter earlier than normal to mitigate the possible threat to the statute of secrecy.This is just a half baked idea - typed with my phone in the middle of the night. Tell me what you think.





	1. Prologue

The quiet hamlet of Gessot-on-the-Mold prided itself on being one of the most boring places in Great Britain. Home to some 80 people, terrible weather, and a cobwebbed schoolhouse, one did not end up in Gessot unless one was lost, and one did not stay unless one enjoyed the company of bilious cane-swinging geriatrics. 

The newspaper (aptly named Greene's Gessot as it was posted weekly in the Greengrocer's shop) did little more than mention deaths and the occasional birth. Once a small group of Chinese tourists had wandered in and the greengrocer's son had excitedly run a full colour feature. The tourists could not walk a foot before getting harangued by old folk with ancient cameras. With little prompting, Mr Heammet, the butcher, would proudly point his customers to a picture of himself with an arm around a very confused tourist hung over his counter. A mural was set up in the town square to commemorate the occasion, and the pub started having annual visitor's day discounts every 16th of September. Nothing ever happened in Gessot. 

That was about to change. 

The true born locals all agreed that it was The Professor's fault. While not strictly residents, she was often seen trekking in the moors with her young daughter. The daughter was intolerable enough, being some sort of violin prodigy, and the old men having a pint would wince and shake their heads everytime the faint Mendelssohn could be heard. With Professor Hallen and her daughter came the internet, a mobile signal, hibiscus shrubs blooming out of nowhere in midwinter, floating dogs, and water that sparked and crackled until it set the village fountain on fire. 

And now a blond haired stranger appearing out of nowhere and asking where Libra Hallen lived. He was middle aged, wore odd clothes, and obviously up to something. 

Clearly something had to be done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some backstory. Again, sorry for the half-bakedness. Better at reading than I am at writing (obvously), and I haven't logged on in ages. Thank you Atta_girl for the encouragement :)

The name of the blonde turned out to be Draco Malfoy, and at this moment he was nervously fingering the wand tucked up sleeve as he eyed a particularly violent looking old man from across the pub. The voice if his father slithered unbidden to his mind ,"Malfoys do not loaf around in pubs" (reminiscent of the time he was caught in the three broomsticks during a Hogsmeade weekend several years ago.) Well, Father, he thought balefully, Malfoys don't sweat nervously either. Nor do they wear muggle clothes and drink (vile) muggle beer. He ought to get an award for the number of Malfoy traditions he was breaking at this point.

The old man across the pub still had not shifted his glare, and Draco's eyes began to water as his Slytherin unwillingness to lose prevented him from looking away either. Pretty soon, his view was blocked by what appeared at first glance to be a giant, polka dotted wall. After a couple of blinks in inclining his head upward, Draco found the wall resolve into the image of a burly Hagrid-like man with a grinning head and pancake sized hands. With a faint sense of horror, Draco caught a slight whiff of blood wafting off those hands. His fingers gripped his wand just a tad tighter. 

"What's your business here, Mister?"

The burly man had to repeat his question twice before Draco had swallowed down enough of his dry throat to answer.

************************

How it transpired that Draco Malfoy, notorious pureblood snob, found himself sitting in what was possibly the most muggle of all muggle pubs is a matter that bears some analysis. The surface skimming journalist or historian may have attributed said Malfoy's actions to a noble but mundane desire to right the wrongs of his past. It was, indeed, what Draco Malfoy himself thought. However the more discerning biographer, when faced with the facts, may tie it all back to one simple fact. Malfoy, at the ripe old age of 33, was suffering from empty nest syndrome. 

After sending his son Scorpius off on the grand old Hogwarts Express, Malfoy had sauntered off to his home with a whistle on his lips, all set to reclaim his bachelorhood. He had a foot of parchment on his desk, listing all the things could only do in the absence of his beloved yet attention demanding offspring, just begging to be checked off. But the first day without Scorp had turned into the first week without him, and Malfoy has already read his son's first letter 287 times, with only the chocolates left by Mopsy for company . He had also sent his son at least 12 care packages and a seventeen inch long letter. He had to charm his tears off the latter, but certain things are better off unmentioned. 

Malfoy found himself wandering wraithlike around Diagon Alley, revisiting Potage's Cauldron shop (which reminded him how excited Scorp had been about learning potions), Ollivander's (where a tiny chorus of bells was conjured up by the wand that chose his son), and even Weasleys' Wizardring Wheezes and Linley's Muggle Niknakz (Scorp had spoken at length about his muggleborn friend, who had insisted that selling 'knickknacks' in that abominable way was authentically muggle). More often than not he ended up nursing a tall spire of Scorpius' favourite sundae at Frotescue's al fresco area while staring out forlornly into the street. 

It was on one such sundae fuelled brooding period that he had the fortune (or misfortune) of running into Theo Nott. And it was through Theo Nott that he learned about the Muggleborn Adoption Program.

************************

"Libra Hallen, hey? Leeeebra Hallen. The professor's daughter?" 

The big man (who Malfoy was secretly calling Balrog given his size and prominent canines) scratched his upper lip thoughtfully. The grin had slipped off his face at the first mention of the girl's name

"Yeh wan' t' look around that side," he said, pointing vaguely to the left, "then take th' turn. Can't miss the 'ouse. Has a big old sat'lite dish on th' top."

It was clear the man did not like the house the house or its residents, but figuring out why was not one of Malfoy's priorities. He nodded at the man and returned to his beer, only to realise the man was still there, grin showing once again through his scraggly beard. 

"What is it?"

"Come t' me shop. Got some good veal in."

"Of course." Malfoy lied. So he was a butcher.

Baring his teeth one more time, the man shuffled out of the pub. Malfoy took a swig of the beer and immediately regretted it. How could something that looked so harmless taste so vile? A subtle wave of his wand and two cubes of sugar floated unnoticed from the bar and plopped themselves into his mug. Another swish had the granules of sugar stirring themselves in. Malfoy checked his watch for what was likely the hundredth time that day. Where was Potter?

As if he was summoned, Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived Twice and Great Gryffindorian Saint of All Humanity, stepped into the pub looking like a boiled haddock. 

***************************  
"MAP? Muggleborn Adoption Program?"

"Like it says, you adopt a muggleborn student. Teach them and their parents about wizarding culture and et cetera, while they show you all the cool muggle stuff. See this?" 

Theo pulled a flat black rectangle from his pocket, then did something that caused it to glow. 

"Its called a mobile. It's like a quill, parchment, library, friend and owl; all in one! My auntie's last adoptee gave it to her. She loved it so much she went into muggle London and got one for me too."

"You've gotta be pretty lonely if that thing's your friend, mate." Draco sneered. 

"Don't knock it till you try it. Pansy's enrolling into MAP as an adoptive parent next year too"

Draco halfheartedly bantered with Theo, but an idea had already begun to take shape in his mind.  
*************************** 

After a minute spent surveying the room while unsuccessfully trying to flatten his hair and his clothes, Potter finally spotted Malfoy and gave a weak wave before joining him at his table. 

Harry looked at Malfoy's grimacing face and sighed. "I told you this before, but you really don't have to do this. You can back out even now, if you want."

"And like I told you before, Potter, nobody is making me. Could you do something about your clothes? You look like you cleaned up after a troll gave birth."

Harry spared a glance at his rumpled self and returned to the matter at hand. 

"So quick run through. We go there, you explain about magic and hand the child the Hogwarts letter while I stand guard. Then you reassure the parent while I ensure the extra excitement doesn't cause little Libra to set anything on fire. I'll just remind you again, she's unusually powerful for her age, and we need to be careful we don't cause any kind of presdigitation. Then we stress to her and Mom that it's really not saffe in their home, and to head off into your humble abode. All clear?"

"Yeah yeah. Let's get on with it" Malfoy had already reached his potter threshold for the day. No, scratch that - the year. He got up to leave the pub, and Potter followed close behind, as the two strangers headed to the Halen's house.


End file.
